


Pirate

by d_aia



Series: Segments [4]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abuse of a Minor, Breaking and Entering, Disabled Character of Color, Drug Dealing, F/F, Harm to Children, Harry as Arthur, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Perpetrated by a Minor, Original Character Death(s), POV Eggsy, Theft, Traumatic Event Happening to a Child, Violence Perpetrated by a Minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy had never said a word about it to anyone. ‘It’ was his alone. Always on him, the responsibility weighing heavy, and always with him, the memory permanently cautioning against repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pirate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and locations are not mine.
> 
> Warnings: V-day and its consequences; Abuse of a Minor (Not Eggsy); Violence and Murder Committed by a Minor in Response of a Traumatic Event; Temporary Character Death; Betrayal; Theft and B&E. 
> 
> Last Time on Segments: (Make Him Proud:) Harry lives and Eggsy finally finds out after eight months. Merlin is a paranoid bastard, though he has his reasons and Eggsy's chip on the shoulder may be more justified than Merlin initially thought. Also, Roxy fails to complete a mission, through no fault of her own, and that doesn't make her any less of a badass.
> 
> (Deep Waters:) Roxy's dad was with Valentine, but didn't send her a memo and Roxy's next mission is to arrange it so a young billionaire is a friend for Kingsman. Arthur thinks that Kingsman needs a psychologist (with Merlin's support) and they both worry about Eggsy and a possible hack. Eggsy, for his part, has trust issues.
> 
> (Unknowingly:) Roxy deals with: her father's behavior, betrayal within Kingsman and a new asset (Asha). 
> 
> I wanted to apologize for stealing the accomplishments of an Olympic athlete for the purpose of this story. So sorry! Also, I am sorry if the name 'Kaawa' isn't Aboriginal or doesn't mean 'East'. The source I found was kinda iffy, so it may be wrong. If there's anything about the character rubs people the wrong way and you feel like you have an argument for something that may be written differently, please discuss it with me. I want it to be as real as possible and certainly don't want to offend anybody. To those who helped me, wrote to me, supported me and cheered me on: thank you!

Eggsy had never said a word about it to anyone. ‘It’ was his alone. Always on him, the responsibility weighing heavy, and always with him, the memory permanently cautioning against repeat.

‘It’ happened on day like any other. Eggsy was eleven or twelve… or even ten, he couldn’t really remember. At the time he had other things to worry about. Like how they were short on money. Or how Dean was circling around his mother who found him charming. Eggsy had a different opinion. Mostly because Eggsy hated that Dean was going to replace his father in his mother’s life, but also because Dean dragged Eggsy’s mother further down. Sure, Eggsy was not on the straight and narrow. He’d be the first to admit it. But his mother remembered better times. When they had Dad and were happy and everything was on the up and up… She would gather Eggsy in her lap and tell him stories sometimes. Not anymore, though. And Eggsy blamed Dean and his money and his alcohol and his smokes for his mother’s apathy.  

So Eggsy decided that in order to get rid of Dean, Eggsy had to bring enough money home. And the only thing an ex-gymnast thought of doing was scaling apartments and robbing them.  He was aware that it wasn’t the brightest choice, but it wasn’t like he could get a job or qualify for a loan.

It was during these extra-curricular activities that he discovered he had the ability to survey, plan, do everything he necessary in order to survive and, sometimes, get money for his troubles. Even if that meant staying absolutely still in a closet for almost two hours when a man unexpected returned with his piece on the side or dangling forty meters in the air because the woman who had chosen to rob had an open plan apartment and was forgetful. As Eggsy held on, he couldn’t help but imagine him simply giving her the keys because, even with the freak-out, it would have still taken less than half an hour. 

Another month, another apartment. Two weeks spent familiarizing himself with the building, the access points, the family’s schedule (mum, dad and daughter) and emergency exits. One day more for planning. Eggsy was as ready as he’d ever be. He scaled a neighboring building at night out of sight of the cameras that peppered London, swung himself using some tacky architecture pole onto a ledge, then slid carefully down to the balcony of the apartment. So far, so good.

Eggsy looked around, eyes narrowed as he examined everything. There were some valuables, some things that only seemed valuable, but weren’t, and a safe tucked behind a picture. He zoomed in on the vast collection of watches which were why he had chosen the apartment and slid his bag off. The mum really needed to learn not to flash them around. It got all kinds of unwelcome attention and here he was. That and the woman was an ass. Not liking the people he robbed, Eggsy found out, helped.

He took the watches, tucking them carefully in the bag, padding them with scraps of cloth so they won’t jostle and break. It wasn’t perfect. In order to make sure he kept all the watches safe, he had to have a lot of fabric which meant he had less space. A lot less. Basically the watches and some money are all that would fit. After he shouldered the bag again, Eggsy looked around to try and figure out where the family would have their money.

Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the lock startled Eggsy. He studied the room hurriedly for hiding places. There were none. He got in the hallway and the door opened just as he slid in the kitchen. Damn it, thirty seconds and would have reached the master bedroom, from there the window. Then: freedom! But no, he had to wait until… well, hopefully something would happen soon and he’d be able to go.

“I had plans for tonight!” a woman’s vicious voice said. “Why couldn’t spend the night at Lizzie’s. You had one thing to do and you couldn’t even do that right.”

“Lizzie’s mummy says I am sick,” the daughter trembling voice enunciated. “I have fe-fevah.”

“Fever? I told you to speak clearly,” the woman sounds ticked off. There’s some shuffling sounds. “You’re barely warm!”

“That’s what she said, mummy!” The daughter sounded close to tears.

“Did she?” the woman said, sounding crazed. “Or did you say something? I have told over and over again that we can’t be holding your hand all the time! You have to be able to take care of yourself!”

Eggsy would have thought that sounded fair, if only it weren’t said to a small child, by their parent to boot.

“No, mummy,” the daughter sobbed. “Lizzie’s mo-mummy sa-said—”

“You listen to me,” the mot—woman warned. “Your dad is busy working all the time for you! You’ve seen how tired he is all the time!” Eggsy touched the strap, knew that the bag was full of women’s watches, and disagreed.  The woman continued, “You know and still you are an ungrateful brat!”

Eggsy had a bad feeling about this.

Over the sounds of her daughter crying, the woman’s threatening words continued, “I’m always there, always careful and ready to listen that you sneezed or learned some new poem for stupid first grade English!” Eggsy knew the woman’s schedule and she had her friends over five times a week. Not to mention spa trips and shopping trips. Besides, the daughter had a nanny. When was all this supposed to be happening? “And once a week, just one time, I get some time for myself and you ungrateful spoiled child take that from me too. No!”

Eggsy froze.

“N—” the daughter caught off. There were some muffed sounds, before, “I can’t brea—”

Terrified, Eggsy’s blood turned to ice. He told himself he was imagining it. The woman wasn’t strangling her daughter. It just couldn’t happen.

A gulp of air, then Eggsy could hear the daughter trembling voice again accusing, “I’ll tell daddy!”

The woman gave a little laugh and Eggsy wanted to punch her. “You’ll tell him what? That I put the scarf over your face until you couldn’t breathe?” Eggsy himself stopped breathing. No, it couldn’t. But it did. “ _Nobody_ will ever believe you. He’d have to choose between a dumb brat and the woman he loves. You wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“Daddy loves me,” the daughter wailed.

“Ha! Anyway, say that he does,” the woman accepted coldly.  “That he believes you. What is he going to do? You don’t have any bruises. No way of proving anything. _I’ll_ divorce him and _I’ll_ get _you_. So you better behave! Because _you_ won’t _ever_ be rid of _me_.”

Clothes were rustling and Eggsy realized that the little girl was putting up a fight. There was little girl not ten meters away fighting for the right to breathe. Hell, for all he knew, she might be fighting for her life.

… And Eggsy did nothing. He couldn’t because he was the one that survived. Closing his eyes so tightly that white lights started dancing behind his lids and clenching his fists, Eggsy tried not to hear anything more. He tried not to let the sounds conjure any images. But the scenarios kept repeating and the sounds were echoing. Still, he couldn’t give himself up. A sob made its way out of his throat, so he hurriedly put his fist in his mouth and bit down. He knew he couldn’t be caught. His mother’s happiness, Dean staying away, his freedom, all of it was on the line. Eggsy couldn’t throw everything away. His ability to survive, to be able to close himself off, was something that always helped him before. That got him out of trouble. And it held him back now.

But what or who helped the little girl?

As the sounds disappeared into the girl’s bedroom and Eggsy felt his body move towards the master bedroom’s window, he realized what the answer was: not him. He wouldn’t help _the little girl_. Panting, his whole being screaming at him to turn around and save her, he still grabbed the ledge. Tears in his eyes, arms trembling, he still saw and seized the pole. Though what he wanted was to be by her side, he still left.

Eggsy left the little girl there with the monster of a woman.

*

After that day, his memory became fuzzy and grey. He didn’t remember when Dean finished his dance around and finally honed in on Eggsy’s mother. Eggsy did remember thinking that he didn’t blame her, some things no one should remember. So if she wanted to erase from her memory his father, Eggsy shouldn’t tell her different. But Eggsy, for his part, couldn’t forget. What was worse, he didn’t want to. He knew that every day he shut up, with every second that passed in which he did nothing the little girl would suffer some more.

Sure, Eggsy told himself that she wasn’t that little, only a few years younger (she could have been older, Eggsy was still the one with the power to do something). That she had a father (who couldn’t do anything, he asked around, the woman was right). That she wasn’t his problem (whose problem was she then?). That he couldn’t do anything (couldn’t he?).

And that was the thing, though. He couldn’t do anything for fear of being caught and he couldn’t get caught because he had his mother to take care of, but this wasn’t taking care of anybody. When his mum made an off-hand remark about running out of money Eggsy shrugged even though the watches were still in the backpack. When Dean came and took his mother to dinner Eggsy tugged the sheets above his head so the world would leave him alone. And when Dean told him to run drugs Eggsy just blinked and took them.

Eggsy was numb. He was suspended for dealing drugs and he didn’t seem to care. Just couldn’t make himself.

So gingerly, Eggsy stood up. He went to the kitchen. He took the biggest knife his mother had. With it in his hand, Eggsy went to Dean. He was sitting on the couch, watching tele and waiting for Eggsy’s mum to be ready to go out. Eggsy somehow managed to get Dean’s attention. Or at least, the knife did.

“Do you have some rope?” Eggsy asked absent-mindedly.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Why do ask?”

Eggsy truly had no idea. He just did. So, he shrugged and didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing with that knife?” Dean was getting angry.

Tilting his head, Eggsy watched Dean in confusion.

 “What are you doing with that knife?” Dean raised his voice. He made a grab for the knife but he was too old and too slow. Before he even started moving Eggsy had danced away.

Eggsy still didn’t understand the question, and he said, “I just do. Do you have some?”

Clenching his jaw, Dean seemed to reach a conclusion. “In my car,” he said holding the keys. “In the trunk.”

Eggsy went. He got it. Came back.

“Thank you,” Eggsy said, offering the keys back.

“How did get back so fast?” Dean asked loudly.

But Eggsy just shrugged again. He put the keys on the coffee table and left. After all, he had nothing more to say. So he took the backpack. And was gone.

Dreamlike, Eggsy waited for the woman, knife and rope secure in the backpack.

Later, he would remember it in a series of flashes of darkness and light. He was on building. He was on a different building. He looked at his watch: ten thirty. He was jumping. He landed. He swung himself up. He waited. He looked at his watch: five to eleven. He saw the woman. He attacked.

What Eggsy did remember clearly was the sound her head made against the brick wall as she was falling. He remembered how hard it was to stab her; not because he never thought he’d do this, but because he was expecting the knife to go in like through butter and it didn’t. Her wide, terrified eyes were also something he would never forget.

But mostly, Eggsy would always hear how satisfied—and how vicious—his voice sounded once he got the rope around her throat and said, “She _will_ be rid of you!”

Eggsy then blacked out. His memory was blank. The next thing he recalled was the bathroom sink and he was washing the rope. The strong smell of bleach was starting to burn his nose. There was blood everywhere: on him, on the rope, and in the sink. There wasn’t any on the knife though, so he must have already cleaned it. Eggsy was numb again… but also, settled.

Dean was frozen next to the door.

“I won’t sell your drugs,” Eggsy said. His lips were numb. Saying the words was odd. It was kind of funny so he grinned. “You don’t hurt my mum.”

The noise Dean made didn’t qualify as a word, but Eggsy took it as confirmation and kept washing.

Eggsy later found out that he managed to think even if he wasn’t all there. He made it look like the woman, who had been stealing from her home for reasons unknown, was mugged (so that was what he did with the watches). During the robbery, the woman was stabbed ten times and strangled. The strangulation appeared to be cause of death, though they never did find out how it fit in with the knife blows (not like Eggsy could help with that part). He also read that the daughter, Sophie, was to be raised with her father, Jack Moore.

That night Eggsy felt he had learned three important things. One, he wasn’t a hero, he was a bloody menace. Two, he would do everything in order to survive. But three, no innocent creature would ever suffer again for his mistakes and decisions. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

*

Suddenly with Eggsy’s coming to Kingsman, a whole new world opened up. A world which was at times dazzling—the training they received, the gadgets, the suits—in a macabre sort of way. All the good things on top and the rot just waiting patiently behind every glittering thing. It wasn’t his world and he had trouble grasping it. Like, how Merlin said that he had a chip on his shoulder because he was expecting someone not to have a ‘chute, or how Harry said that, of course, Kingsman didn’t expect you to kill anybody for nothing.

What? How could he possibly explain that in his world if there was a life and death situation, the death was very real? It wasn’t even the posh versus the plebes, not really, and it wasn’t like nobody could ever understand him. There were people that would, but _these_ people didn’t understand him. They _couldn’t_ understand him because they haven’t been through the same shitty experiences. Sure, he disliked Charlie and the others, because they saw Eggsy as lesser, but that wasn’t new to him. He’d put in the work, try to best them knowing that it was important where he landed because they would always land on their feet. 

But the others, Merlin and Harry… fuck, talk about a different life perspective.

Anyway, out there—with Arthur talking shit or on a mission—the world made sense again. The people who wanted to kill him didn’t have blanks and the people he killed were pretty dead. It was something he understood.

Everything changed once they were working. Merlin started listening. Roxy started trusting. It was really something once they had a common goal. And if everyone somehow gained along the way a few ticks, that was fine. It was better than everyone else. Too bad Harry got shot. But then, Eggsy was right. It wasn’t _that_ kind of movie, it was a different kind. The one where if the body wasn’t checked, the person wasn’t dead.

Harry had kind eyes. He was a lot of things, he appeared to be even more things and what he meant to Eggsy differed from one day to another. Eggsy didn’t spend so much time with Harry, but somehow his influence was everywhere Eggsy turned, bringing opportunity in Eggsy life, a hand that reached for him when he needed it and never taken back. Harry was Eggsy’s rock in the sea. Maybe Harry wasn’t always on the same wave length as Eggsy regarding what was best for him, but the idea that there was somebody out there that would think of _Eggsy_ in those terms meant a lot. It won Harry Eggsy’s loyalty; something Eggsy knew Harry wouldn’t take advantage of because… above all, Harry had kind eyes.

Yes, not knowing Harry was alive, and that he hadn’t deemed important to let Eggsy know, stung. It hurt so damn much that Eggsy couldn’t deal with it. So he took it one thing at a time—a touch and a kiss for the patient because he was fucking relieved that Harry wasn’t dead and a punch for Harry because the prick made Eggsy furious—and that was it. Talking about it was a whole new experience and one Eggsy would rather forget.

Heart pounding—because who even said things like ‘your great influence on my behavior certainly cannot be explained by the time spent in your presence’ and actually meant them, for fuck’s sake, Eggsy was attracted to Shakespeare—Eggsy finally escape the conference room and went to look for Merlin. Oh, and of course, earlier Harry had wanted to find out if they ‘were alright’ like it wasn’t something he expected and took for granted, but something to be worked towards. Like just by saying that he hadn’t won Eggsy respect or anything. Wonderful bastard.

“So,” Eggsy having found Merlin, propped himself up on the nearest wall and gave his best smile, “Arthur said you might be willing to help me with something.”

Merlin frowned. “Again ‘Arthur’?”

Letting his eyes rest for a second on the many people in a lab close to them, Eggsy said, “Doing my part in protecting out fearless leader. I’d hate to have a new one.”

“Of course,” Merlin said dryly. “And what is this favor you pose for?”

Fuck Eggsy loved the man, he was like the favorite teacher Eggsy never had. Always good for a lark, always there for Eggsy. How had he ended up with people like Merlin, Eggsy would never know.

“Oh Merlin, don’t hurt me so,” Eggsy said, putting a hand dramatically over his heart and taking the few steps until he could plop down in Merlin’s lap. “I don’t _just_ pose.” Eggsy winked at a startled Merlin from very close.

Merlin huffed and pushed Eggsy off his lap. “The favor?”

Catching himself in hand stand, Eggsy was back on his feet in a moment and in the next his hip was propped against Merlin’s desk. “Information.”

Merlin shook his head, mumbled something that sounded like ‘Cheeky’ and said, “About?”

“It’s three tiered, like a cake.” Eggsy wiggled three fingers and stated counting them down. “First, what are the qualities I’m supposed to be looking for in this psychologist? Secondly, I’m going to need access to data bases. And third, what am I allowed to tell them?”

“Shouldn’t Arthur be telling you this?” Merlin asked amused.

Eggsy pushed himself from the desk. “He did,” Eggsy defended. “He was the one that told me there is going to be a psychologist.”

“You know you don’t have a word limit,” Merlin said, a touch fondly.

Eggsy crunched down next to Merlin’s desk, quickly planted his arms on the glass surface, put his chin on his hands, pouted and looked at Merlin pleadingly.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, but he conceded the match, “Brat.” He ruffled Eggsy’s hair. “Fine. The psychologist will be a Kingsman agent so he’ll have to pass the same tasks you did.”

“So they have to have military training?” asked Eggsy incredulous. “But that’s boring!” When he saw Merlin’s eyebrow start its climb, Eggsy hurriedly added, “And it limits the pool of possible candidates severely.”

“This is not job for everybody.” Merlin shrugged.

“That doesn’t even touch the problem,” Eggsy argued. “It’s not a job for everybody, which is why choosing somebody for it would fucking profit from having the option of a larger category of people.”

“What do you want me to say? I tried,” defended Merlin. “And cut the ‘fucking’ and you’ll have yourself an argument.”

“What about policemen, firemen, marathon runners and… I don’t know, martial arts instructors?” Eggsy gestured wildly. “And what kind of psychologists? Counselors, therapists… how many kind are there anyway? Will there be a test for that too?” Eggsy paced Merlin’s office. “Oh, and they have to be citizens of Great Britain?”

Merlin took a deep breath. “They can be anything you like as long as they have a chance to fit the criteria. I’d say that marathon runners can’t fight and martial arts instructors can’t shoot a gun, but then we’ll get into the whole thing with the military training and let’s not. For what kind of psychologists they will have to be, I’d recommend military psychologists because they are the ones where exposure to trauma is featured heavily in their training and also understand how to work within a hierarchy, but again the choice is yours.” He fixed Eggsy with a severe look. “If there was a test for them, you’ll know nothing about it.” Merlin then leaned back into the chair. “And there’s nothing in the rules to specify country, only it’s obvious that they’d have to fluent.”

Eggsy nodded. “What about the information I’m allowed to share?”

“They are going to be part of several candidates for a position of psychologist in a military organization that doesn’t have any government ties,” Merlin spoke slowly as if gathering his thoughts. Then he gave a scary smile. “And we’re good guys.”

Letting the silence speak for itself for a few moments, Eggsy still narrowed his eyes. Then, he said, “And we’re fucked up. That should go well.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Data bases?”

“Which ones?” Merlin asked, pointing Eggsy to a computer in the lab.

“I want them all,” Eggsy announced decisively. “All the military and military drop outs, all the psychologists, all the marathon runners, police, firefighters, Olympians, hell, everybody from the special Olympics or in training for them.” He reviewed what he said and added, “From all over the world.”

“There are…” Merlin began with a shake of his head, but apparently he decided to change tracks because he continued, “a lot. All that I have access to within an hour’s work will be on the computer. Good luck, Galahad!”

Eggsy beamed. “Thanks, Merlin!”

In the end, Eggsy found three people who caught his interest. First was a potential candidate. Amalia was a biathlon athlete (which was a sport he didn’t even know existed that looked wicked hard and was a combination of skiing and rifle shooting) and won silver in female singles in the 2006 Olympics and bronze in 2010. She then gave it up professionally and became a therapist specializing in overcoming trauma. But she was from Germany and from interviews Eggsy saw that even though there were no problems with understanding the language the same could not be said for speaking it.

Second was another potential candidate. Kaawa used to be a firefighter in Australia until his leg was crushed during a rescue and had to be amputated. Now, if somebody asked Eggsy, he’d say that Kaawa coped amazingly well with that, considering he went on to become a military psychologist and to run marathons. As a bonus point, he knew how it felt to be discriminated against so his defenses were already built to stand the posh passive-aggressive behavior that Eggsy had encountered in the Kingsman. Sadly, the only thing Kaawa aimed was a fire hose at really obvious targets.

And third, Eggsy found a name. She was in the data base for trauma therapists in Ireland. Her name was Sophie Moore, with a living father, having moved from London to Cork when she was seven after her mother’s death. It made Eggsy smile proudly. The little girl managed to get herself in a place from where she could help other people. So he wished her well and went back to what he was doing. 

*

Eggsy was in Australia (because Kingsman had a branch in Berlin). Weaving through the hallways until he reached the right apartment. He was tired, pissed of and his trust-meter was pointing firmly on betrayal. He hoped it was nothing and that he saw conspiracies where there were none, but his life was mostly set on ‘expect the shittiest thing to happen’ so he mostly hoped trusting Roxy was not a mistake. Arriving, he knocked. He had learned a few things.

After a while, a bewildered looking man appeared and squinted at Eggsy. He was missing a shirt, his dark hair was a mess, his snub nose was scrunched up—all par for course at a quarter to seven in the morning—and he had blurry, but kind brown eyes. Perfect.

“Wha—” Kaawa Taylor managed.

Eggsy interrupted him cheerfully. “Good morning! I have a proposal for you.”

Kaawa blinked. “I’m not gay.” He moved to close the door.

Smiling even wider, Eggsy took a step back, so it won’t look like he had forced his way in, and said, “Congratulations. Right now I couldn’t care less. The proposal is professional in nature.”

“Professional?” Kaawa sounded more awake.

“May I come in?” Eggsy asked politely.

“Sure, sure,” Kaawa said and moved further in the room.

The apartment was open plan, light, airy, and—with pillows and a huge couch and the whole yellow-green color scheme—seemed like the most comfortable thing ever.

Eggsy went to the windows, deliberately turning his back toward Kaawa, who Eggsy wanted to put at ease. “I want to invite you to be part of several candidates for a position of psychologist in a military organization that doesn’t have any government ties.” He watched Kaawa’s reflection carefully in the glass. “We’re the good guys and we’re fucked up. Questions?”

Kaawa opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish. “What?”

Turning, Eggsy let his smile fall and himself be supported by the cool glass. “We are probably the best trained agents in the world.” Eggsy took a step forward, used the window to give himself a push and did a flip. Then he leaned back, slumping against the door feeling overwhelmingly tired. “We have more resources than any other agency.” He activated a button on his shirt and a moment later he had a garrote. “We act quickly, discreetly, independently and decisively. And, it turns out, we’re not super humans and now… we’re fucked.”

Seemingly fully awake, Kaawa dropped on the couch. “How come?”

“There has never been a psychologist in my agency,” Eggsy said. “Ever.”

Kaawa’s eyebrows did the samba. “How can that be? Isn’t the government—” He broke off, catching up to what he said. “Fuck!”

Eggsy nodded. “And now, we fucking need one.” He gave Kaawa one last look and then he turned to the windows. He’d give Kaawa a few minutes to think things through.

“What happens if I say no?” Kaawa asked and Eggsy saw him getting a bat from under the couch. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Put the bat down, Mister Taylor,” Eggsy drawled. “No matter what, I’m not here to kill you.”

“How—?”

Eggsy gestured to the windows.

“Right,” Kaawa said and dropped the bat. “But you could.”

“I am very well trained,” Eggsy confirmed.

Snorting, Kaawa observed, “That’s a nice deflection.”

“See? You’re already reading me,” chuckled Eggsy. “I have killed. You’ll find out more if you decide to join.” Taking a large breath, Eggsy abandoned the windows and crouched in front of Kaawa, looking him in the eye. “It’s going to be tough, people are going to be pricks to you and you will have to work a lot. Probably more than most because you’ve never handled a gun professionally before. But,” Eggsy let himself smile and threw in a wink for good measure, “we need you, your strength and your determination.”

Kaawa nodded. Then he seemed confused that he did and looked at Eggsy with narrowed eyes. “And if I don’t get it?”

“You tried,” Eggsy said, still smiling gently.

“I’m going to need to know _more_. You understand that? I don’t know anything about you or your organization. We have to talk about scheduling and… and what I’m going to do with my place here and…” Kaawa trailed off. “But if we manage to arrange it all and if you are telling the truth, I’m going to do it.”

Eggsy beamed and winked.

“Just, I don’t know,” Kaawa added, “wink in another direction.”

*

Harry didn’t disappoint. Maybe that was why Eggsy was so upset now. Betrayed. More like soaked, in pain, sad, confused and angry. As the woman with the American accent—Asha—finished up his bandage, he found himself adding another one. Sheepish; he was kind of guilty for frightening a civilian. It wasn’t his fault per say, since Roxy brought her, but well, his hand was holding the knife.

And thank fuck, did his trust in Roxy get repaid. He wasn’t so sure in the beginning with Valentine, she seemed more like another agent working for the same goal, but her joke about having each other suggested there may be more. It would be really good, because Eggsy could really use somebody to trust. He hadn’t had a person to watch his back before, so it would be a bit of a change, but he was willing to risk it. They had been through a lot together and if Roxy would willingly extended a hand to him, he’d take it. She saved his life.

“Thank you again,” Eggsy said, turning tiredly in the chair so he could see Roxy as well as Asha. “The both you, thanks.”

Eggsy could see Roxy nod.

“It’s no problem,” Asha smiled sweetly. Then, biting her lip, she said, “What now?”

“We’re going to find out who is behind this whole thing,” Roxy said, a bit unsure and Eggsy thought he could understand her. It was hard enough to move past the—possible!—betrayal, it was downright dicey to figure out the next step.

“Yeah,” Asha said, a shade of ‘d’oh’ coloring her tone. “But how?”

Eggsy put his head in his hands. It was so damn hard. Merlin wanted to kill him? Harry? Or was it just run of the mill Kingsman agents? That would be bad, but not disastrous. Still, who would even get into Merlin’s system? He was so possessive of his things that it really wasn’t likely. It seemed that Merlin did want to kill him. Harry too, probably. Fuck! Just let him get over shock, okay? There was silence for the next few minutes. Urgh. Then an idea hit so suddenly, he actually flinched.

“Merlin’s pad,” said Eggsy. His lips were once again numb. He remembered the last time that happened and told himself he was being stupid. This was nothing compared to that. He couldn’t have attached himself to these people so quickly. It was just the chilly water.

“All the Kingsman network,” nodded Roxy, continuing his thought. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go into the Kingsman and steal Merlin’s most valuable possession without backup?” Eggsy had a bad feeling about this. “Why do I feel like I’m in for just as shitty a task?”

Asha laughed. “Because that’s how you work?”

“We’re not really sure how it’s supposed to work, but, you’re right, that is how we work,” agreed Roxy with a small smile. 

Eggsy, in the meantime, realized what he would have to do. “Oh fuck!”

“What happened?” Asha asked, concerned.

“Eggsy just figured out what his mission will be,” said Roxy fondly.

Asha blinked. “What?”

“Distract Arthur,” Roxy and Eggsy answered at the same time.

Only Eggsy continued, “With what though?” He could only think of dancing naked in front of him and that was not helpful. Making eye contact with Roxy, Eggsy could see her thinking along the same lines. He could feel his shoulders shaking and after a second, they both began laughing. It was a little hysterical, but they both needed it.

“Maybe you could go some place he’d look for you. Buy another identity? Because that’s the first thing that guys in movies do when they’re on the run?” Asha proposed uncertainly. “Or is that ‘buy a gun’? I don’t know.”

_Huh,_ Eggsy thought, _look who’s got her head in the game._

Then Asha asked another question, proving that her intelligence didn’t have just one focus. “Why the ‘oh fuck’? And why the laughter? What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“Galahad looooves Arthur,” Roxy ribbed him gently, encouraging with a smile.

Laugh at this? Make it seem unimportant? Eggsy could do that. Hell, it was better than anything he could think up—which may or may have involved some sort of physical violence—so, he went with it.

“I wouldn’t say love,” Eggsy said, tone bright. “Strong lust. A healthy amount of like.”

Asha looked between Roxy and Eggsy for a second, before shaking her head. “Are you still going to do it?”

“Yes,” smirked Eggsy. “And I have just the place.”

*

In the end, Eggsy still resorted to physical violence.

It went like this: Eggsy walked into Dean’s bar to find Harry, fully decked in suit plus umbrella, already there.

“I didn’t betray, Merlin didn’t betray you,” Harry said firmly. Eggsy could see Harry was starting out in force. “Merlin was hacked. Apparently, he had a little too much trust in the agency, so he wasn’t as careful as he could have been.”

And Eggsy said, “Bullshit.”

That was it.

Of course, Eggsy was itching for a fight. Especially, since he had a reason: take Harry’s glasses and turn the tracker off to make it seem like Harry, as Arthur, was in trouble so that Merlin’s attention would be on that and not on Roxy. The fact that Eggsy was hurt and mad was just… good acting.

Eggsy punched… next to Harry. Damn it, he still couldn’t make himself hurt Harry; particularly his head. Whatever, he clipped the glasses making them fly off Harry’s face and to the right, Eggsy was fine. He spared a cheeky grin to the dumbstruck huddled Dean & Crew before he ducked under the umbrella that Harry raised instinctively.

Blocking a few of Harry punches, Eggsy flipped backwards while throwing a kick. It made Harry duck to the left, giving Eggsy time to dash after the glasses and crush them. He barely remembered to continue evading Harry, who sent a dart to his midriff, making Eggsy jump on a table to avoid it. He got his throwing knife out and dropped into doing air swipes on his forearms. Harry was blocking every one, but Eggsy still managed to back him into a wall. Plus, he didn’t think Harry saw the knife.

One, two, three… Eggsy pushed off his forearms, landed on his left knee and reached with his right hand. He managed to slash Harry thigh, at about the same place where Eggsy’s tracker was. Immediately, Eggsy blocked the oncoming blow with his left arm, before dropping into a backwards roll and gaining a few meters. He wouldn’t be able to keep them, but the respite was useful and… Wait. He did keep them. Harry stood frozen where Eggsy cut him. Eggsy looked at him concerned. Yes, he tried his best not to hurt Harry, no matter what he may or may not—not, if you listened to him—have done, but there was always the possibility…

Harry’s face was a mask. He was studying Eggsy with such intensity, that Eggsy almost blushed. “The tracker,” Harry said absent-mindedly. “You need the tracker off. First you destroyed the glasses and now the tracker… You are a diversion. Or I am a diversion… Who comes when I’m offline? Ah.” Then he reached into his thigh, dug out the tracker and crushed it under his Oxfords.

Eggsy could feel his face become slack in his surprise. Harry smiled at him benevolently. Fuck, now what?

“Why did do that for?” exploded Eggsy.

“It seemed important for whatever plan you had,” Harry said and shrugged a bit. _He shrugged._ “Since you were the one who realized what was going on in the first place, I’m deferring to you. And Lancelot, I suppose.”

Eggsy huffed. “And Merlin’s just fine with that.”

Whispering could be heard from Dean’s corner, behind Eggsy, but at a glare from Harry they stopped. “We never betrayed you, Eggsy,” Harry said slowly, as if he wanted Eggsy to remember or understand or something. “We’d never betray you.”

“So what, this isn’t another thing I’m not allowed to know yet?” spat Eggsy. He barely hid the wince. Eggsy didn’t want to be the one who had to be coddled, he didn’t want any special treatment, but damn it, it hurt not knowing Harry was alive for eight months.

Harry flinched. Eggsy was caught between feeling like Harry had deserved it and wanting to protect him from the world. Possibly hug him until those sad brown eyes were dancing with happiness and mischief. Eggsy had it bad.

“No, Eggsy,” Harry said lowly. “That was my decision. I felt I needed the time. It was not done as a betrayal, but as something that was necessary. I needed that time to be able to be in front of you today. I… I didn’t wander at your capacity for caring, I was simply unsure about who I became and I needed eight months to understand. But letting you believe that I was still dead was a mistake. I am sorry and if the need should arise a second time, I will let you know.”

Somebody snickered. Eggsy threw the knife behind him without looking. It landed with a ‘tunk’. Somebody gulped and Eggsy would bet it was Dean. He never got used to Eggsy and knives. Harry smiled in gratitude.

“Fine. Thanks, I guess,” Eggsy conceded. Time would tell and, about the rest, hell it sounded a lot healthier than going after somebody with a huge knife. Though Harry didn’t have a living target, so Eggsy guessed it was better way. “Okay. Merlin got hacked, huh?”

“There is nothing anybody could tell him to make him feel any more horrible than what he tells himself. He was very concerned,” Harry said apologetically. “He will be happy when I tell him that you are alive. And I wanted to tell you this from the beginning: I am delighted that you are well.”

Eggsy was not the best with words, so he ducked his head. “Yes, well, Lancelot,” he mumbled. “Talked to her before… you know. She came.” Then, taking a big breath, he said, “In fact, I may have it on good authority that Merlin would be pissed soon. Again, but for another reason.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled with laughter. No hugging necessary. Missed opportunity. “Oh my.” A smile unfurled on his lips. But then, he seemed to think about something. When he spoke, there was no more humor in his voice, just quiet assurance. “I will personally take care of your mother and sister so that nothing will touch them. I think, for now, it’s best if you continue the mission as you began. I’m afraid we don’t know how many people are involved and we—that is, Merlin and me—are needed to keep the agency afloat. If you need anything: money, information, resources…”

“I’ll know where to find you.” Eggsy nodded.

“Eggsy!” Harry’s shout came abruptly, eyes suddenly widened.

Eggsy let himself bend to the side to balance his extended leg, ankle hooked around a beer. He heard the shot, felt the bullet pass by his ribs a line of fire left in his wake, so he spun and sent the beer behind him, into Dean & Crew. Eggsy was facing them when he heard Harry shoot the umbrella. The puck-like object hit Dean (who had the gun) in the forehead. Probably figured that his reaction earlier was too telling and now needed to save face.

“Are you alright?” Eggsy whipped toward Harry as soon as it was clear that Dean was incapacitated.

“Yes,” said Harry calmly. “You?”

“I’m fine,” answered Eggsy. “Hey,” he turned towards the Crew minus Dean, “anybody knows where I can get fake I.Ds?”

They huddled closer.

“I may know somebody,” admitted Harry.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Eggsy asked impishly.

Harry suppressed a smile and answered primly, “I have no idea.”

And _that_ Eggsy could work with. Things would be fine. Back to work they go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


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